


Don't Let Me in with No Intention to Keep Me

by ActuallyMe



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, Faerie AU, Rating May Change, Vampire Slayer AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-10-05 09:27:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17322365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActuallyMe/pseuds/ActuallyMe
Summary: Being a vampire slayer is hard work, especially when it's your day job.  Still, it's made slightly more bearable by confident, pretty girls who know what they want.orWith vampires and fae and shifters existing, it's hard for a human with the sight to really live a peaceful life.  But Adora's life was never meant to be peaceful, regardless of her ability to see.  She's a monster magnet, and here there be dragons.ON HIATUS until I get my life sorted out





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so this is the Slayer!AU I've been promising everyone. No, it's not based on Buffy. Title is based on Hozier's It Will Come Back.

It’s Latin night at The Studio, which is a roundabout way of saying that Adora is way out of her depth. It’s not that she’s never been to a gay club and it’s not that she can’t dance. It’s just that she would normally be in bed resting up for the morning’s patrol, and she has no idea where to even start with any ballroom dancing, let alone Latin. She knows the names, like Merengue and Samba, but if someone asked her where they came from or what they looked like, she’d be at a loss. Cue the stress. Glimmer and Bow keep trying to get her out on the dance floor, and while she loves them to pieces, she wouldn’t have any clue what to do. The steps look complicated and fast, and she refuses to look stupid, even for her friends.

Then there’s that girl, the one with the beautiful dark curly hair who keeps making eyes at her. Adora isn’t sure if she’s a vamp or just really _really_ hot. Okay, fine, Adora knows she isn’t a vampire; she can spot those things from a mile away. She just hasn’t ever been this attracted to a stranger, let alone a stranger who seems into her. They haven’t even spoken, but their eyes keep meeting at random intervals, and at one point, Adora swears she winks.

Well. Tonight’s supposed to be about relaxation, right? She would definitely make a move, but then that would mean she would be expected to dance. God, she hasn’t properly flirted with anyone in ages; she hasn’t had time with her new job. The perks are alright, at least. She gets great pay, twenty-five days of holiday, and health insurance. Also, it’s pretty rewarding protecting people from vampires. Luckily, she’s got the day shift, which means breaking into known or rumored vampire dens and exterminating them. Much better than the more popular night shift, which would totally throw her circadian rhythms out of sync.

Adora tries to feign nonchalance when she next looks for the hot chick, but when she raises her eyes, the girl is gone. 

“Hey babe,” a smoky voice whispers in her ear as a hand rests on her arm. Adora’s heart thumps right out of her chest, and she jumps an inch into the air. “Woah,” now there’s laughter. “Someone’s a little wound up.”

Adora turns; lo and behold, it’s Hot Chick. Her voice sounds like sin, Adora decides. She isn’t sure that she believes in sin, but still, it’s indulgent and sinuous and so wrong it’s _right._ Up close, she can see the girl’s sharp canines glinting in the low light and the faintest suggestion of freckles dotting her light brown skin. Then there’s her suit, perfectly fitted to her body and way too sexy for Adora to handle. God, it’s not fair that this lady is so hot. _Are her eyes? Are they different colors? They’re - fuck, what’s that word for mismatched eyes?_ She wonders. It doesn’t matter, really, except for the fact that Adora’s brain has turned to mush. 

She remembers to speak at the last possible moment, but it’s not even a little bit articulate. “Hi!” Oh God, why does she sound like some sort of high schooler? Then, Hot Chick’s words catch up with Adora. “Hey, wait, I’m not wound up! You can’t just go scaring the shit out of people.”

Hot Chick is smiling at her like she knows all of Adora’s secret desires. Fuck. The girl leans in, her lips a handsbreadth away from Adora’s, and says, “Dance with me.”

“I - I - I don’t know how to - I would love to really, but I have no idea how to dance Latin, I mean, I can barely dance to like regular dance music, and -” She realizes she’s rambling, and even in the faint light of the club, she’s sure that Hot Chick’s smirk has everything to do with how much Adora resembles a tomato.

“C’mon. I’ll teach you.” She quirks an eyebrow, pulls back, and extends a perfectly manicured hand. 

Adora’s insides go funny. _God, yes, please teach me everything you know,_ she thinks. 

She takes Hot Chick’s hand and the other girl leads her on to the dance floor. Once they’re there, the girl teaches Adora a series of easy movements, and then she spirits Adora to the middle of the throng. While Adora can tell she is definitely slowing Hot Chick down, the girl doesn’t seem to mind. So much for refusing to look stupid. 

Each new song has different steps, though they are sometimes variations of the first one. The lights flash, the music is loud, but the thing that really gets to her is how often Hot Chick’s legs slide between hers, constant and sensuous. Jesus fucking Christ, this lady has no right being this sexy, and Adora is way too overstimulated to really follow. She keeps stumbling, blinking against the lights and trying her best to keep up when finally, Hot Chick takes pity on her, laughing as she leads her away.

Adora follows her to the bar area outside, where it’s nice and cool.

“What’d you think?” She asks, before turning to the bartender and asking for a drink.

“I think I’m a terrible dancer,” Adora admits. She tells the bartender, “I’ll have the same as she’s having.”

Hot Chick laughs. “Didn’t peg you for a tequila sunrise kind of girl. And you’re kinda terrible, but you could be better with practice.”

Adora shrugs, and before she loses her nerve, she asks, “What’s your name?”

“Catra,” she practically purrs. “Yours?”

“Adora.” She can’t help but offer her hand out for a handshake. God, she’s such a loser. No one shakes hands at clubs.

Catra seems nonplussed for all of a second, but before Adora can let her hand drop, she takes it and lifts it up to her mouth for a kiss. Adora practically dies on the spot. As it is, she splutters, and Catra smirks at her, and Adora would literally do anything for that crooked smile.

“Hey, Adora. Wanna -” 

Whatever Catra had been about to say, Adora will probably never know, because it is at that moment that Glimmer interrupts.

“Adora! There you are, where’ve you been?”

Adora shuts her eyes in an attempt not to groan. She turns toward Glimmer and whispers, “I’m in the middle of something, Glimmer. Give me a second.” Glimmer’s mouth shapes into an “o,” and she backs off. 

Adora turns back to Catra with a pained smile, and suddenly, Catra is so close, her arms wrapping around Adora and her hand slipping into Adora’s back pocket. “See ya, Adora.” She pulls away from the impromptu embrace and saunters off. Adora is left gaping, more heat flashing through her.

She absentmindedly reaches into her pocket and withdraws a napkin with a number scrawled on it and a name printed underneath: Catra

\--

_Best Friend Squad_

_1:59 Glimmer: Have u texted ur mystery girl yet_

_2:00 Adora: noooooooooooooooooooooooo_

_2:00 Bow: Cmon, Adora. You were totally into that chick and she was totally into you! Text her!_

_2:04 Adora: i will once i gather up enough courage. i just_

_2:04 Adora: what if she wasn’t really interested? what if i misinterpreted?_

_2:06 Bow: She danced with you all night, and then GAVE YOU HER NUMBER. Stop being so dense._

Adora sighs and puts her phone on the bedside table. She wants to text this Catra chick, but if she’s honest, she is terrified of the intense intimacy she inspires. Dancing, and then kissing her hand, and then that not-quite-hug at the end. Adora’s heart somersaults just thinking about Catra’s freckles, and her blue and green eyes, and her goddamn suit. She’s always liked a woman in a suit. 

It’s been ages since Adora properly dated, but she will never find anyone if she doesn’t at least reciprocate when girls flirt with her.

She picks up her phone. It’s almost 2:15 AM. She isn’t sure if she should text now, or wait until the morning, but impulse wins out over sense in the end.

_2:17 Adora: hey, this is adorable_

_2:17 Adora: sorry, adora. i hate autocorrect it always does that to me_

Adora exhales and lets her phone rest on her belly. There. Now Catra has her number. Maybe she’ll even text back if she doesn’t think Adora is a complete and total idiot. Ugh, fucking autocorrect.

She allows herself to drift off to sleep, and misses the buzz of her phone not fifteen minutes later.

_2:31 Catra: Hey, Adora._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to the lovely Touzen on this, her special day.

Adora might be going off the rails a little bit. Angella did tell her that she needed to wait for backup, but there’s something going on, and she swears that she heard someone scream. If this is a nest, which she’s not sure it is, they’ve probably got people they’re draining. She can’t have her hesitation to be the reason that people die. Inhaling deeply and turning off her radio, she fiddles with the door lock; hopefully there is no one on the other side. When it finally swings open, Adora peeks in and breathes a sigh of relief. 

She goes through each of the rooms until she finds what she’s looking for: a man slumped over as a vampire, shrivelled and not even bothering with a glamor anymore, drains the life out of him. Its perpetual hunger gives her an advantage in that it doesn’t notice her at all. Adora raises her gun and fires a single silver bullet into the vampire’s head, purposefully missing the man. Both the vampire and the man collapse to the floor in a tangled heap, blood and brains splattered all over the wall. 

Ew. Even if she is grateful for the magical silencer that Angella provided her with, she will never get over how grim this job is. At least that silencer keeps her from going deaf.

The thing with vampires is that they can be all enticing one minute, but as soon as their glamour fades away, they are bald, shrivelled creatures with anemic looking skin and teeth lengthier than a tiger’s. Besides, Adora has the true sight. She can see what vampires and other fae project like everyone else, but it’s like double vision; she can also see what they really are. 

When she was a child, a fae by the name of Angella noticed her sight during a playdate with her own daughter, Glimmer. When Adora kept saying she wanted pink hair like her new friend, it became clear to Angella what was going on and she took Adora under her literal wing. Adora’s parents had been relieved that Angella had gotten their daughter to stop talking about fairies and funny looking people with magical powers. Adora had just been glad that someone believed her, even if it was a woman with purple skin and pink hair and the biggest, most beautiful wings that Adora had ever seen. Thus began Adora’s education into the mystical and her friendship with Glimmer. It wasn’t until she was much older that Adora found out her mentor was the ruler of the faerie court, Bright Moon.

When they were fifteen, Angella established a small slayer business Earth-side. Vampires, while they are definitely fae, have been the scourge of faerie communities for centuries, according to Angella. They are the fae who refuse to abide by any of the faerie courts’ laws. As such, they are banished from their respective courts, and without an energy source like one of the crystals that fae royalty preside over, they are forced to find energy elsewhere. 

Often, they feast on the humans that society has discarded, and that’s what pisses Adora off the most. Even so, she had been hesitant to join Angella’s merry band of slayers until two months ago when her twin Adam had been attacked by a vampire. He’d been smoking weed with some friends in an abandoned building, and he’d barely survived. It doesn’t stop him from going out at night, but he definitely doesn’t smoke in abandoned buildings anymore. That had been hard to explain to their parents, the whole him being high while a wild animal attacked him story. Adora’d had to tell Adam that that yes, vampires are real, and no, it wasn’t a drug induced psychosis. The doctors made him get rabies shots, even though he and Adora knew it wasn’t necessary.

The man crumpled on the floor before her has better chances than Adam did, so that’s good. She turns her radio back on and lets them know what has happened and hefts the man over her shoulder. He’s really skinny, and he’s looking pale. There’s a frustrated, “Adora, we told you not to go in without us,” from Glimmer, but she ignores it.

She heads toward the front door when she hears a scuffle and a triumphant “Aha!”

Adora sets the man down in the corridor and goes to investigate. Her backup will be here to get him soon, and that noise sounds distinctly un-vampire like. Actually, it’s really familiar. She cocks her gun anyway and walks toward where she can hear someone talking. 

The sound leads her to a kitchen, and the image stuns her. A woman with dark and wild curls sits atop the counter, a gun in her hand and a vampire staring at her with disdain. It’s Catra.

“C’mon. You’ve just gotta tell me where you got that thing.” She laughs like she’s having fun while the vampire brandishes a sword. “That isn’t yours, you know. It probably belongs to some goody-two-shoes faerie champion or something.

It hisses something that Adora can’t understand, it’s voice too low to carry intent over to where she spies.

“Exactly. So why are you, of all things, holding on to it like a security blanket. Give it.”

The vampire snarls and lunges at Catra. It’s a suicide mission, because as soon as it rushes forward, Catra shoots. It’s loud, which Adora had not expected, and she jumps. She doesn’t think she makes any noise. Catra hears her anyway. She turns to stare at Adora, but it takes a few moments for her to respond. Eventually, she smiles. 

“Hey, princess.” She slides off the counter and picks up the sword from where it’s clattered to the floor, then walks toward Adora in her dykey Doc Martens and her leather jacket. Her pants are red and ripped, showing off her knees, and while she holds the sword away from Adora, she doesn’t put her gun away.

Adora swallows. Catra is full of surprises.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to meet with someone. Well, something. The real question is what are _you_ doing here.”

Adora is at a loss for words, because how often are civilians in the firing line? And Catra is definitely human, because if she weren’t, Adora would know. 

“I’m…” Well, Catra obviously knows what vampires are, because she’s not freaking out at the sight of the glamourless creature behind her. “I’m a vampire slayer.” It sounds dumb when she says it aloud, and Catra definitely laughs.

“Oh, that’s really cute, Adora.” She’s wiping tears from her eyes, and Adora is kind of offended. Catra is hot, but she doesn’t like being made fun of. “Wait. You’re serious.” Catra puts the gun in a holster on her hip and goes to inspect Adora.

“Well, you’re definitely not fae, so how do you even know enough about vampires to be a slayer?”

Adora splutters, her face heating up as Catra inspects her.

“Neither are you, and you know about them,” Adora huffs. She pockets her own gun sheepishly.

“Yeah, how do you know that?” Catra accuses.

Adora shrugs. “I’ve got the sight.” No need to explain as Catra already seems to know everything. 

Catra’s eyes go big, and Adora can see the wheels turning in her head. “Me, too,” she says carefully. Then, she smiles. “So, we still on for coffee tomorrow?”

Adora gets whiplash from the sudden change in subject, but manages to nod. “Yeah, but you might wanna go, like, as soon as you can get out of here. This place will be crawling with faerie slayers in about five minutes and you don’t wanna get caught up in all this.”

“Oh, Adora. I already am,” she smirks, before letting her nails drag over Adora’s arm. The skin there comes up in goosebumps and Adora shivers. Wow.

Well, at least when the inevitable career question comes up, she won’t have to lie. That’s gotta be a plus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I KNOW, this ended up being way more faerie and way less vampiric, but hey. I should've guessed this would happen. Thanks for all the comments and kind words. They really motivate me to write. I've written like, up to half of chapter four. :) Also, shoutout to Catagonist for their help with being my beta and catching all my little mistakes and making sure there's enough tension in the story. If not for them, I don't think this would be nearly as fun.


	3. Chapter 3

She is unsure as to what she should tell Glimmer and Bow about Catra’s sight. On the one hand, Glimmer has been known to keep secrets from her mother. On the other, she can’t keep a secret from Bow, and Bow has a very difficult time lying to his queen. Also, fae tend to dislike when mortals know their true nature. Not for the first time, Adora realizes that maybe she needs to make some more human friends.

She decides that all they need to know is that she’s going to get coffee with the girl from the club and that she needs their help in picking something out for her to wear. 

“How about the dress Mom had Aunt Casta make for you?” Glimmer asks, pulling a scarlet faerie gown out of Adora’s closet. It’s the dress she uses when Angella demands her presence in Bright Moon--which she can only get to because she has explicit permission to go. It’s gorgeous, but not really date attire, unless you’re going to a masquerade or something.

“I’m not going to your mother’s court, Glimmer. I’m just going on a coffee date. Though red isn’t a bad idea.”

Adora retrieves one of her jackets, a crimson jewel-toned one with slits on the arms. Is it too much like copying Catra’s ripped red jeans, though? Maybe she should go for her little black dress. Ugh, this is so complicated. There’s a reason she hasn’t been on a date in ages, and that’s because she’s technically never dated a human before. At least she knows faerie protocol like the back of her hand! It’s regimented and has rules you can follow. Human dating has no rules; well, except for the whole, no dating the same gender hang-up some humans have, but that’s less a human thing and more a culture thing. She thinks so, anyway.

“Uuuuuugh.” She groans.

Bow’s pointed right ear twitches, a tick he has when he’s annoyed, though his “human” ear does nothing. “Adora, you’re overthinking this. She flirted with you when you wore a gaudy sparkly top and black jeans. She obviously doesn’t really care what you dress like.”

“That top cost me a lot of money.”

“Well, there’s no accounting for taste, is there?” Glimmer smiles placidly. “Bow’s right, though. Just wear something comfortable. Maybe those grey slacks you’ve got and a nice blouse?”

Adora stares at Glimmer. “It’s a date, not a job interview. I don’t even know why I invited you two. You’re useless at this.”

In the end, she decides on a white turtleneck and a black jacket, as well as a flared black skirt and some fun, black, over-the-knee boots. They are not heeled because Adora hates heels. It’s monochromatic, but it does the job. More importantly, it doesn’t look forced.

Bow helps with her makeup, but she draws the line when he tries to put black lipstick on her. 

“Nope,” she refuses.

“But it’ll pull the whole look together!”

If she were going clubbing or bar hopping, yes. As it is, it’s coffee, for crying out loud! They’ll probably eat a pastry or two. Isn’t that what you do on coffee dates? Adora wouldn’t really know, but still, the lipstick feels too dressed up. Too vampy, for lack of a better word. 

She wins out in the end because, despite Bow’s pouting, he’s pretty good at boundaries. Better than Glimmer, anyway, who keeps making comments about Adora’s boring outfit. 

“There’s no color!” She whines. To appease her, Adora throws on a red scarf. 

\--

Catra is lounging on a chair when she finds her. She looks up at Adora, her mouth twisting into a self-satisfied grin, her eyebrows raising suggestively. “Hey, Adora.” Adora feels that familiar warmth start up in her belly and it takes an iron will to not stutter back at her.

She manages what she hopes is a confident smile before tripping on the table leg right into Catra’s lap.

“Fuck me,” she groans.

Catra smirks. “Sure. My place or yours?” She says, her voice low and husky. She’s stroking Adora’s arm intimately as if they’ve known each other for far longer than they have, and Adora freezes like she’s some kind of goddamned deer in the fucking headlights.

Adora jolts out of the impromptu embrace, composing the flush that comes too easily to her and patting her hair down. “Sorry!” Her voice breaks. She scoots back into the chair opposite Catra, completely aware of how stupid she must look. But Catra isn’t looking at her like she’s stupid. 

“Stop that.” Adora manages, but her voice is a little too breathy for her liking under Catra’s focused gaze.

“Stop what?” Catra cocks her head and crosses her legs.

“You make everything…” Adora doesn’t know what to say, but she settles on “intense.”

Laughter bubbles out of Catra, and then she winks. “I’m an intense sort of person, especially when I know what I want.”

Adora swallows, her mouth suddenly dry. The implication is clear.

Then, thankfully, Catra dials it down a little. “But I can play along. Tell me. What do you want out of this?”

“To get to know you,” Adora says a little too earnestly. The way that Catra’s eyes soften makes it worth the risk.

So they talk. God, do they talk. In fact, Adora wonders if she talks too much, but Catra seems interested. She finds herself sharing anecdotes about her family, her friends, how she was discovered by Angella at a young age and, as a consequence, relates more to fae culture than human culture. She even admits that in some ways, she understands the faerie world better than the human one. It’s hard. She feels like she’s trapped between several worlds, and Catra’s response to that is that those with the sight _are_ trapped between several worlds.

“It’s like, a Venn Diagram? So like, imagine there are all these circles, like three or four or five even, and people with the sight intersect with at least two of them. You’re not one or the other, but you’re not both either. Like, humans with the sight are a bit touched, a bit faerie themselves. Not quite human, but not quite fae.”

Adora furrows her eyebrows. She’d never thought of it like that before.

“That sucks.”

Catra leans back. “Does it? All it means is that the rules don’t apply the same way. Why do you think the fae hate when humans can see them for what they are? Fae can’t lie, but they can still deceive. A human with the sight takes that away from them.”

Adora narrows her eyes. “You make them sound like, I dunno. Monsters or something.”

“They’re just people,” Catra shrugs. “And people are flawed. The fae don’t want you to think that way, though. They think their immortality gives them an edge. It’s why they hate vampires so much. Without their fancy crystals, they die, and that’s terrifying to them, the thought that they could be mortal.”

Adora has never ever heard these things said aloud. Sometimes, late at night when Glimmer and Bow aren’t there, she does wonder, but this… kinda feels like treason. She is sworn to Bright Moon, a human champion, and this is definitely edging into heresy territory. She tells Catra as much, and Catra smirks at her again.

“They’ve got their claws deep in you, huh?” 

Adora shakes her head. “They’re like family. I’ve known them my whole life, Glimmer and I grew up together.”

Catra shrugs again and leans forward. “I’m kinda done talking about the fae. I want to get to know you. What do you do for fun, besides slaying vamps?

It takes a good while for Adora to think of something not boring and not related to faerie stuff, but it still ends up being boring. “I work out and, uh… I write. I mean, it’s not very good, and it’s kind of all faerie tales retold, and Angella would never in a million years let me publish any of it, but… I like to write.”

Catra’s eyes perk up at that. “Ooooh, that sounds fun.”

“It is! What about you? I’ve spent this whole time talking about me, but like, I want to get to know you, too. Like, where’d you learn how to dance? What are your hobbies? What do you do for work?”

Catra settles back in her chair and ticks off the answers.

“My family is from Brazil, and dancing is in my blood. My mom Selena used to go to Carnaval in Rio, and she taught me every dance she knew. Then she sent me to dance classes to learn more. I can technically do ballet, but I don’t like it as much as I like Latin ballroom. So yeah, I dance, and I box, and I work as a dance instructor on the weekends, and as a library assistant on the weekdays.” 

Adora is hard-pressed not to drop her jaw. “You’re so interesting. What the hell are you doing talking to me?”

“You’re a vampire slayer. You’re pretty interesting yourself. Besides, you’re hot.”

Adora literally feels the blush rise in her face _again_. She fiddles with the glass mug in her hands and sets it down before she can drop it.

She looks up to meet Catra’s unflinching gaze, and there’s something hypnotic about her blue and green eyes like she’s trying to say something. Maybe she is, the way that gaze lingers on Adora’s mouth. God, it’s been a while, she realizes, if a look can do that to her.

Adora manages a nervous giggle and a competent question. “So, uh. Will you teach me how to dance?”

Catra winks. “Sure. Let me take you to my dance studio.”

Adora isn’t sure it’s meant to sound suggestive, but it does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated early bc the tabs on my laptop were getting ridiculous. I'm writing ch 7 now, and yeah. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think, yeah? I thrive on comments, like honestly. And again, thank Catagonist, who is honestly the only reason I am updating on time (and early). Their beta skills are amazing, and they keep the story flowing.


	4. Chapter 4

The dance studio is basically a large open room with mirrors all along one wall. Adora watches Catra in the mirror and finds Catra watching her back. She smiles slightly, and Catra sticks her tongue out. It’s really cute, but surprisingly, it doesn’t kill off Catra’s usual bad girl vibe. She does it with a devil-may-care attitude that is totally on brand.

“Okay,” she says with a focus that is unlike anything that Adora has seen before outside of her own combat. “So the basic steps to Samba are really easy. Usually done in heels, but I only wear heels when I’m teaching a real class. Take off your shoes? Barefoot works, too.”

Adora hesitates, and Catra deflates. “You don’t have to. We can do something else.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to! I just get very embarrassed. Like. What if I’m so bad at this, you never want to talk to me again? Dance seems pretty important to you.” She tries to laugh like it’s a joke, but Catra is looking all intense-like at her again. Adora isn’t sure why, but then Catra saunters over to her, pushing her against the wall near where Adora is hovering, and bringing her lips up close. Adora’s heart hammers in her chest, her eyes wide and looking down at Catra.

Fuck.

“I’m not even close to done with you, babe, dancing or no dancing.” When she releases her, Adora’s breath catches in her throat as she tries to calm the pounding in her chest. Catra continues as if they’re discussing the weather, “Besides, I’ve seen what you can do under pressure. You’re not getting on Dancing with the Stars, but you’re not too bad either. Let’s see what you can do after a real lesson.”

Adora nods mutely.

The lesson begins with Catra playing an upbeat song in a language she doesn’t recognize, teaching her how to bounce on her feet so that her hips sway. When Catra demonstrates, Adora is torn between trying to learn how to do it well and staring at her. This looks pretty straightforward anyway, so Adora allows herself the indulgence.

“Hey. You can undress me with your eyes later,” Catra admonishes. She circles behind her and puts her hands on Adora’s hips. Her voice gets intimate, the tone promising. “Follow my moves.” Catra presses her front to Adora’s back and wiggles. Adora _whines_. It’s subtle enough that Catra shouldn’t be able to hear, but she does, and Adora can feel the puff of air against her neck where Catra laughs. 

“Hmm. I’m not going to get much out of you, am I?” Catra’s voice deepens.

“Wh-wh-what? I’m fine! I can dance! Just uh, maybe not,” here Adora clears her throat, “maybe not when you’re grinding up against me.”

Catra chuckles low in her throat. “Oh, Adora. If I was grinding up against you, you’d know. Now, _c’mon!”_ She steps back in front of Adora and does a little thing with her feet. “Once you get the hips down, you move your feet like this.”

Her left foot goes back, her right foot steps where it is, and then her left foot goes to its original position. She does the same with her right foot and repeats the motions until Adora is imitating.

“That isn’t so bad. It’s actually kind of fun!”

Catra laughs. “I think so. Simple, but still cool, and a huge crowd pleaser. The hardest part for people to get is the arms, though.” She demonstrates, and it looks good, but Adora finds Catra was right. It’s not the easiest thing to imitate. In fact, Adora fails so miserably that Catra is doubled over laughing. 

“You were doing so well! But your arms look like limp noodles; oh my God, this is too funny.”

Adora laughs along because she can see in the mirror how ridiculous she looks. And Catra, when she isn’t being all blase and unfairly sexy, is actually pretty cute. Adora leans against the bar on the mirror and really takes a look at Catra. Knowing a bit more about her makes her feel more fleshed out. She’s no longer the unattainable hot chick from the club with her suit and her smirk. She’s softer, more touchable. Still hot, though.

Catra’s giggles die down as she notices Adora staring at her. She straightens and crosses her arms, but the smile playing at the corner of her mouth lets Adora know that it’s still friendly.

“What are you thinking?”

Adora is a useless lesbian. She can’t help herself; the words just come flying straight out of her mouth. “I’m thinking it would be nice to kiss you.” 

She regrets it immediately, not because Catra laughs, but because she wants so much to be smooth around her, to be the knight in shining armor that most people expect of her. That all goes flying out the window with Catra, who turns her into a bumbling, over-earnest klutz. 

“Oh, Adora,” the way Catra drags her name out makes Adora hold her breath. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Catra uncrosses her arms and walks toward Adora, who doesn’t know what to do with herself now that her admission is out. Like, she knows that Catra is interested; it isn’t disbelief that is keeping Adora frozen in place, it’s not knowing what the rules are. With the fae, the rules of courtship are much more defined. You express interest, say what you want and what you expect from the relationship, and if or once everyone agrees, the courtship begins. Human dating is based on signals and you can get in deep before any discussion of expectations happens. 

Still, Adora doesn’t _care._ Not when Catra intentionally presses her lips to hers, coaxing her mouth open with just a little bit of pressure. Adora responds, pliant and easy and a little bit desperate. Fuck, kissing Catra is something else. When sharp teeth nip at her skin, Adora gasps. There’s something so right about this, and Adora lets her hands settle on Catra’s hips. Dimly, she realizes that Catra’s hands are tangling in her hair, carefully pulling her face forward. That action sends heat straight to Adora’s core, and she pulls away gently.

Catra pouts, a faint blush dusting her dark cheeks. When she speaks, her voice is huskier than before. “What’s up? Wanna stop?”

“Not really, but…” Adora’s mouth opens as she notices Catra’s is glistening. All she wants is to kiss her again. Still, she plows on, admitting the inconceivable. “Uh, I’ve never dated a human before.”

Catra steps back then, a fleeting expression that Adora recognizes. She should’ve known it was too good to be true. Her head drops, and shame heats her cheeks and a cold chill drapes over her shoulders all at once. She wants to cry. 

Suddenly Catra’s warm hand is on Adora’s cheek.

“They’ve really done a number on you, huh, Adora. You’re not under one of those awful compelling spells where they force you to do things you don’t wanna do, are you?”

“I’m not under geas; it’s not like that. It’s just when you have to hide a whole part of yourself from other people, it’s just - it’s hard. It’s just that, even if I did tell someone, who’d believe me? They’d lock me up.”

Catra’s intensity drops.

“Yeah, I guess. So, if you’ve never been with a human before, then what the hell are you doing with me?” The question is loaded with something, but Adora isn’t sure what that something is.

“You’re cool. And now I know you’re a good kisser.” 

Catra lets it drop, then, pulling Adora back towards her by the lapels of her coat. “Then let me show you how good I can be.”

Adora stops worrying after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated on Wednesday bc I really wanted to get this chapter out today. That being said, I think I'll stick to posting on Fridays. I hope you enjoyed!


	5. Chapter 5

Adora bikes home on autopilot, her legs pumping as she weaves through traffic. She’ll text her friends once she gets home. For now, all she can think about is the feel of Catra’s tongue darting into her mouth, the softness of her slightly chapped lips, the way her hands grasped at Adora. The thoughts of what was shift into thoughts of what could have been, and she remembers the little high pitched moan Catra made, wants to coax that noise out of her again. Yeah, Catra can teach her how to dance any day of the week.

Adora knows it’s silly, but for the first time since she was a teenager, she allows herself to imagine a future with someone. The fae she’s dated had quickly broken her of that habit, citing their immortality and her very short, mortal life, but Catra is mortal, too. Human, like Adora, and that thought carries Adora through the city streets like she’s cycling over clouds.

How she manages to get home with thoughts like that swirling around in her head and no accident to show for it is a miracle. Maybe it has something to do with one of the endless charms that Bow makes her wear.

She locks up her bike and starts the three-story climb to her small apartment. She doesn’t mind the stairs when she hasn’t got groceries. 

Moving out of her parents’ home had given her a sort of independence she hadn’t expected, but now she feels even more entrenched in faerie life and estranged from the life she might have had. Her faerie friends are the only ones who really come to visit her because her parents are too busy doing whatever it is they do and her brother is too lazy. They love her, she knows, but they never really understood her. In her parents’ minds, their daughter is a dreamer, leeching off her wealthy friends and disconnected from the real world. In Adam’s, she’s just his crazy sister with the crazier connections. Maybe her family isn’t too far off.

She flops on her couch and retrieves her phone from her back pocket to tell Glimmer and Bow she’s made it home safely when she sees a message from Catra.

_6:59 Catra: I had a really good time tonight. You free on Friday?_

Adora stares at her phone, and before she can text her friends, she taps furiously to answer Catra.

_7:41 Adora: what time_

She stares at her screen, willing the notification to pop up. Much to her delight, it does.

_7:43 Catra: 6 PM. I want to cook you something. Do you have any dietary restrictions?_

_7:44 Adora: i’ll eat anything._

_7:44 Catra: Anything?_

The next message Catra sends has only one emoji: a cat. Adora isn’t sure if it’s a play on Catra’s name or if she’s being suggestive, but just the thought that it might not be innocent steals her breath away. The image conjured is one of Catra on Adora’s bed, her legs wide open and Adora’s face buried between her thighs. It’s overwhelming, and Adora inhales sharply when the arousal hits her.

“Jesus,” she groans. Catra is going to be the death of her. 

She sends a text to the group message between herself, Glimmer, and Bow to let them know she’s made it home and has a second date.

\--

“Tell me about the date,” Glimmer squeals over the radio.

Adora scowls and rounds the corner. Glimmer knows better than to disturb her when she’s working. Just the flashback to when the world narrowed down to her and Catra is distracting enough that the vampire in the room manages to swipe at her with its long nails.

She shoots and whispers between clenched lips, “I’ll tell you after this nest is cleared” She ignores the pain in her arm and presses forward.

She can practically hear the roll of Glimmer’s eyes through the earpiece. “Oh, come on, Adora. You can do this with your eyes closed! Did you get laid?”

Netossa’s voice crackles to life. “Spare us the details, Adora. Glimmer, if you want to pry into Adora’s sex life, I suggest not doing it on a shared channel where we can all hear, because I certainly don’t care.”

Silence, finally; Glimmer must be suitably chastised because Adora is able to hunt in peace. The next vampire she eliminates doesn’t even come close to getting the better of her. Thank God for Netossa. 

They go through the building like that, taking out the vampires and rescuing the humans they can until Glimmer tells them, “There’s just one more on the top floor in the room closest to Adora. Can you check it out?”

“Affirmative,” Adora confirms before she opens the door.

Inside, she finds a vampire huddled over a child. Adora doesn’t hesitate, shoots the vamp, and rushes to the child’s side. Panic settles low in her belly as she pushes the vampire off the unresponsive kid, but she’s too late. The little girl has no heartbeat, her dark hair barely covers the gaping wound in her neck, and Adora wants to be sick. Oh God, oh God, not a baby! She can’t be older than six, and she’s so little and so tiny. Adora does her best not to hurl and picks the little girl up before walking out of the room. 

She wants to cry; she hasn’t had to see dead kids before. It’s too much; this is too much.

Somehow, she makes her way downstairs and stumbles out of the building. She is met by Netossa, who solemnly takes the child out of her arms. Adora finds an alleyway where she can regroup and maybe call someone.

She doesn’t realize who it is she’s calling until Catra picks up the phone. “Hey, Adora.” Any other time, that sultry voice would do funny things to Adora, but right now, her voice chokes and her eyesight blurs.

“Catra? Catra, I need to talk to - I need to talk to someone. Can - can - can you come over?”

“Oh my God, are you okay?”

“N - n - no. I’m not - I’m really not okay. Please. Please say you’ll come.”

“Send me the address.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up next Friday barring any disasters. I'm actually on Chapter 9 now, so that's exciting. :)


	6. Chapter 6

“What happened to your arm?” Catra meets her outside her door. She’s only been waiting about three minutes according to her text, but Adora doesn’t register that it’s rude to keep someone waiting when you’ve asked them to come over. At least Catra doesn’t look annoyed. 

She looks worried, even, so Adora answers. “Glimmer distracted me while we were hunting today, and a vamp swiped at me.”

Catra shakes her head. “Have you got a first-aid kit?”

Adora nods and fishes her keys from her bag, fumbles with them, drops them, and picks them up again. She doesn’t notice that her hands are trembling until Catra reaches out to still them. “What’s got you so shaken up, babe? It’s not just the scratches, is it?”

Adora breathes and chokes out, “There - there was a kid. A t - tiny little kid, couldn’t have been more - more than six. She was so small, and it killed her. It _killed_ her like she was noth - noth - ing!”

Adora’s tearful gaze couldn’t make out Catra’s expression even if she wanted to. A warm hand takes the key and slots it into the lock, and Catra leads her into her own home.

“Where do you keep the first-aid kit and the booze?”

Adora manages to mumble the locations of the required items and admits, “I’ve only got f - faerie wine.”

“Freely given?”

“‘Yeah.”

Adora’s open-plan apartment allows Catra to find things easily while Adora lays on her sofa and unsuccessfully stifles her crying. Now that she’s had some distance from it, she feels silly for calling Catra; they’re not really there yet. She should have tried to talk it out with Glimmer, but after Adora’s first casualty, she hadn’t been very comforting. Bow had been a bit better. Even so, they’re made so uncomfortable by death, even human death, that they don’t quite get Adora’s grief. They want to not think about it because in the end, it doesn’t really affect them. They’re not human, and certainly not mortal, and they’re favored in the court, so the whole vampire thing will never really apply to them, anyway. Not unless someone manages to depose Angella, but they’ve been trying to do that for the past three centuries or so with no success, so that isn’t likely.

Catra reappears with a bottle of wine and the first-aid kit. 

Her hands are gentle where they touch Adora, and when her fingers skim the skin near where the gashes are, Adora gasps. “Ow!”

“Yeah, it’s about to hurt like a bitch.” Catra dabs the cotton ball soaked with hydrogen peroxide against the broken skin and Adora clenches her jaw. “Better this than an infection. Sepsis is no joke.”

Adora doesn’t respond. Vaguely, she recognizes that it’s really cool of Catra to play nurse, but for the most part, her heart is too heavy to feel gratitude.

Catra bandages her up and then uncorks the faerie wine, taking a swig and offering it to Adora. “This is some good shit, and you’ve got tons of it. Might as well make the most of a bad situation.”

\--

Two bottles in, Adora should have anticipated this. She has been told she is an affectionate and talkative drunk, and she knows how funny faerie wine makes humans feel, even if it’s not from personal experience. Still, she has it in her home because her faerie guests always bring a bottle or two when they visit, and she’s too polite to throw any of it away. So here she sits with Catra, drinking and trying to forget the nameless child’s death. 

Catra is lying on her, languid like some sort of _something_. Adora is having a hard time putting words together due to the grief, the wine, and the pretty girl lounging on her lap. That doesn’t stop her from trying though. 

“Why do innocent people have to die?” Adora’s voice hitches as she tries not to cry again. “So unfair. Kids! Kids shouldn’t fucking die. But they do. Being human sucks.” 

Obviously, Adora knows exactly how to kill the mood, because Catra looks up at her with consternation on her brow, all the looseness gone from her limbs.

“Being human doesn’t suck. Life is a cycle. You’re born, you live, you die. And the mysteries of the universe, whatever the fuck they may be, decide when it’s time, or whatever. Sometimes, a vampire decides, sure, but it’s all part of the cycle. Besides, being mortal? That’s beautiful. We get to fit so much into our lives. The fae don’t understand grief, refuse to understand it, because to a certain extent, they can avoid death. Their lives are basically one giant party, with all the booze and the dancing, which can be fun in moderation, but the fae have no substance. No, I don’t know, what’s the word? No matter. It’s all just faerie dust in the end.” Catra bites her lip. “Besides, I’m mortal. You’re mortal. I think you’re cool.”

“You’re nice,” Adora declares. A lot of what Catra says about the fae feels wrong, but in some ways, she sees Catra’s side. And the attempt at comfort is definitely appreciated.

Besides, after talking about nothing but the little dead girl for the past hour, she is ready to forget. Faerie wine is very good at helping with that, and maybe that just proves Catra’s point about the fae and their eternal parties, but so what? 

“Hmm? So’re you.” Catra is looking through the little positive affirmations book Adora keeps on her coffee table. “This is stupid, though. Who even reads this bullcrap?”

“I do. Catra, you’re _nice_ even when you’re mean. It’s nice to be with someone mortal, y’know? Someone who gets it. Someone human, like me.”

Catra shifts like she is uncomfortable.

“No, seriously!” Adora attempts to card her fingers through Catra’s curls, which proves to be a tad more difficult than she’d expected. Catra’s hair is curly, thick, and a little bit tangled. She settles for rubbing her scalp and marvels in the way Catra leans into her touch. “The fae don’t _get_ it. They see a dead baby and don’t even have to compartmen - put it in a little box. It goes straight over their heads. But you understand. You’re taking _care_ of me.”

“You’re in the wrong line of work if one dead kid can get you so worked up, babe.”

“I don’t wannit to change me. I don’t wanna see dead kids and - and not be sad. But I do wanna protec - ,” here, she hiccups, “protect ‘em. How do you sound so _sober?_ ” She accuses.

Catra laughs and her eyes meet Adora’s. “A little faerie wine isn’t going to do my head in. You’ve had most of it, anyways.”

“Have I?” Adora wonders, before impulsively leaning down to kiss Catra’s forehead. She doesn’t flinch, just smiles a little bit. “I’ve never drunk faerie wine before. Angella, she says it’s not good for faerie champions to lose their minds over faerie wine. Says - ” and here she sighs, “says it’s undignified.”

Catra sits up and takes the bottle from Adora. “You’re gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow, especially if you don’t usually drink this stuff. Do you have work in the morning?”

“I’ll call in sick. Uuuuugh, Mermista is going to kill me.”

“What sort of a dumb name is Mermista?” Catra laughs, setting the wine on the coffee table before lying back down in Adora’s arms.

“I’ssa faerie name. All my friends and coworkers are fae. ‘Cept for you.” Adora pauses to think. “And my family.”

“That’s kinda fucked up, Adora.”

“Why?”

“Because despite the sight, you’re still human. It’s gonna fuck with your head if you only hang out with the fae.”

“Maybe. Can I ask you a question?” Adora is quick to shift subjects. She doesn’t like where the previous conversation was heading.

“You can ask, but I can’t promise I’ll answer.”

“What were you doin’ the other day? With the sword and the vampire.”

Catra takes her time in answering. Adora is almost dozing off from the silence when Catra speaks, softly and hesitantly.

“I reacquire stolen artifacts from the fae.”

“Oh. Okay.” That’ll be something she will have to unpack later, but right now, she just wants more wine. “Pass me the bottle?”

“Nuh-uh, princess. You’re going to drink a nice glass of water, and then go to bed.”

Adora pouts, but Catra’s tone brooks no arguments.


	7. Chapter 7

Catra rubs her hands through her hair and over her eyes. When Scorpia told her who the big target was two weeks back, Catra didn’t believe her. A human? Just an ordinary girl? It didn’t seem possible that such a seemingly normal person could be the faerie queen’s favorite. Though, after spending some time with her, Catra can see why. She’s endearing and sweet, and a cute drunk to boot. And of course, there’s the whole ‘chosen one,’ prophecy mumbo-jumbo stuff. That’s useful to Catra.

Still, she’s exhausted. She stayed up half the night playing babysitter, and now she’s up at the ass-crack of dawn - totally against her personal philosophy - getting breakfast ready. She knows that if this is going to work, she’s going to have to make Adora fall in love with her. Shouldn’t be too hard, really; Adora seems to already be halfway there. Who knew she’d be so easy to entice? 

She drops the spatula with a clatter and looks over to where Adora is lying on the couch to make sure she’s still asleep. Her mouth is open and she’s snoring, and it’s so adorable that Catra’s heart squeezes tight. _Oh no._ That’s not good.

She ignores the ache in her chest and continues making the omelet. She’d rather make pancakes, but the geography of Adora’s kitchen is foreign to her. This girl doesn’t even have flour! It’s more endearing than it should be. The apartment doesn’t really look lived in, either, but at least that makes it easier for Catra to find the utensils she needs.

Her sensitive ears warn her just before Adora makes a noise that sounds like an elephant sneezing. It’s loud and frustratingly cute. 

_You idiot, you’re gonna get fucking invested,_ she scolds herself. She traps the sigh in her chest. She’s not going to get moody now, dammit!

“Ugh,” she hears, and there’s a shift in the air as Adora drags herself off the sofa and up to where Catra is cooking. She watches Catra for a moment, sighs, and frowns. Catra can’t discern the mood she’s in.

Then, there’s a slow, warm smile from Adora. “You’re still taking care of me.”

Catra waves her spatula. “Well, someone’s got to. Your friends are useless.”

Adora shrugs. “That sorta thing isn’t part of the contract.”

Catra stops, spatula still in the air. “The what?”

“You know, the contract?” Catra gives her nothing, and eventually, Adora continues, “Every relationship between the fae and, well, anyone really, has a contract. Like, what they expect to get out of their affiliation with you, and what you can expect, too. You’re telling me you didn’t know this?”

Catra puts the spatula down. “No. No, I didn’t. So wait, you’re telling me your friends need a permission slip to make you feel better after a bad day?”

Adora shrugs again. “Not permission. More like… I dunno. An invitation. They’re very literal, the fae. Don’t you know? Since you can see?”

Catra shakes her head. “I didn’t grow up with them. I could see them, but then, so could my mom, and she always taught me to stay far away from them. Said they’d mess with my head.”

It’s not silent, not quite, because Catra’s still clattering in the kitchen, but she can tell Adora’s about to say something because the other girl is thoughtful.

“What was that like?” Adora asks.

Catra startles. “What?”

“Having a mom who understood, like, the sight. What was it like to not have your parents think you were crazy?”

Catra averts her eyes as her chest twinges. She feels more pity for Adora than she’s supposed to, and she likes her more than she wants to. Adora’s a means to an end, that’s _all_ she is, Catra reminds herself.

“Uh. I don’t know? I mean, my dad disappeared when I was little, and I don’t know anything different, really. But, you know, I don’t think you’re crazy.” She feigns a cavalier smile and leans in close to Adora. “Besides. It’s too early for all this serious talk. Look, I made you food.”

Adora’s smile could be a little brighter, but still, it’s a smile, and to Catra’s dismay, her heart somersaults at the sight of it.

\--

She makes it back home with no further incidents, only to find Scorpia and Entrapta engaged in a fierce game of connect the dots. Her coworkers- not friends; the two dummies like to play at being chummy roommates, but Catra still doesn’t quite trust them, even if they did renounce their old lives with the fae - wait inside their shared accommodations. 

“Hey, Catra! Didja get her to switch sides yet?” Scorpia is leaning on her very old and worn couch.

Entrapta is eating party food from a hot tray. “ I remain skeptical of this plan. Seducing her seems to be highly likely to result in failure. Surely once she finds out, she’ll just - ”

“Oh my God, you two,” Catra groans, “shut uuuuup. I’m still working on that, Scorpia. And Entrapta, with a little bit o’ luck and a whole lotta you two keeping your big mouths shut, she’ll never know.”

Scorpia’s brow furrows as she twirls the lentil chip between her fingers. “Okay, so… Catra, what happens when she finds out you’re not into her? What’s her incentive to stay?”

Automatically, as if her goddam filter is broken, Catra tells them, “I never said I wasn’t into her.” She regrets it immediately. Scorpia is squealing, and Entrapta is muttering into her recorder that Catra can’t make out.

“You like her! Oh, Catra, that’s so cute!” With an exaggerated wink, Scorpia says, “I didn’t know you were into _blondes.”_

Catra rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I just said I’m not _not_ into her.”

“Last time you said that about a girl, the two of you kept me up all night with your sex noises.”

Scorpia is clearly trying to get a rise out of Catra, but Catra isn’t biting. Instead, she rolls her eyes and drops her leather jacket on the coat rack. “Whatever. That was different; she wasn’t someone we need on our side.”

“Does that mean you aren’t going to sleep with her?” Entrapta asks, and Catra throws her hands in the air before resolutely ignoring them. 

Catra is good with people. How the hell she manages to spend most of her time with these two fucking changeling rejects is beyond her. Oh, yeah. They work together. Ugh.

“I’m gonna shower. Don’t wait up, losers.”


	8. Chapter 8

After Adora called in sick, Glimmer requested - not demanded, not quite - her presence.  So, here she stands, drumming her fingers against her jeans outside of Glimmer and Bow’s apartment, shielding her eyes against the insistent sunshine.  Her hangover actually feels worse than it did this morning, and she has that thing with Catra tonight. Dinner. She’s even bought a bottle of that nice Californian Cabernet Sauvignon that her parents like so much because she gets the impression that Catra won’t appreciate faerie gifts.  

In fact, she doesn’t think that Catra likes the fae at all.  She didn’t explicitly say that the contract thing weirded her out, but after Catra’s initial incredulity, she was just too indifferent.  Adora may not be the best at reading people, but Catra’s lack of reaction was about as subtle as a fairy ring.

Maybe it’s a little bit weird, but it isn’t all that bad. For the most part, Adora knows where she stands with the fae.  And sure, when she gets sick, it’d be nice for Glimmer or Bow to come around with a cup of soup and a box of tissues without the formality of asking, but Adora can’t really blame them for not living up to her silent expectations.  She can’t expect them to read her mind.

“Adora!”  Bow opens the door and beams.  Then, as if in concern, his face becomes serious and he steps aside to let her in.  It’s such a distinctly unfaerie expression that Adora is surprised. But it’s not like he’s mocking concern; it’s more mimicking.  He only does it for her benefit, she knows, but it’s still eerie.

Glimmer waits inside, pacing.  As soon as Bow closes the door, she launches herself at Adora. “You disappeared last night.  I just wanted to know about your new girlfriend; you shouldn’t be mad at me.” 

Adora blinks.  No apology, but then, she shouldn’t have expected one from the Seelie Court’s princess. “I’m not mad, Glim.  It was just a hard hunt.”

“Why?  You’ve been hurt worse than that before.” 

Adora shakes her head again, a little annoyed.  “It’s not - I’m not talking about the cuts, though those do suck.  It was just… did Netossa not tell you about the little girl?”

Glimmer’s nose scrunches.  “She did, but, Adora, you’ve seen dead bodies before.”

“Not dead children.”

Bow makes a sympathetic sound and both Adora and Glimmer turn to look at him.  “Oh, Adora. That explains why you ran off. Still having trouble with the whole mortality thing?”  

Glimmer pulls another face. “Is that why you’re all mopey?  Adora -”

Adora doesn’t want to hear it.  “I’m okay now,” she lies. “What’s up?  Why do you need me?” She’s exhausted. She still has a headache, though waking up to Catra cooking this morning helped immensely.  The thought that Catra stayed the night sets Adora’s heart fluttering. She knows nothing happened, but still, it could have. It could have, and Catra hasn’t rescinded her invitation for tonight’s dinner, so that’s good.  

“Etheria to Adora!” Glimmer waves her hands.

“Hmm?”

“I  _ said _ , if you’re okay, then you can tell us about the date.”

Adora rolls her eyes.  So much for keeping Catra to herself.  

“We had coffee, she taught me how to dance samba, we kissed, and I went home.  That’s it.”

Glimmer raises an eyebrow.  “You only kissed? Come on, Adora, that’s not like you at all.”

“She’s not fae, Glimmer.  She’s human; it’s not like I can present her with a contract and discuss terms.”  Before the kiss, Adora had wished she could. Since then, she finds herself enjoying the lack of definition of their relationship.  It has the potential to be anything she wants it to be. They can figure out the details later.

“Anyone can sign a contract,” Glimmer pouts.  “Just because she’s human doesn’t mean  _ you  _ have to act like one, too.”

Bow steps in. “But Adora’s not actually faerie, Glimmer.”

Glimmer throws her hands in the air.  “Not yet. But once she completes the trials, Mom will have to grant her immortality.” She turns to Adora.  “If you want to be a fae, you’ve got to start acting like - ”

“I’m not sure I want to.” 

It’s uncharacteristic, this interruption, and silence roars between them.  Being fae is all Adora has wanted since she was old enough to want anything, but now?  She isn’t sure. 

  
Glimmer’s mouth hangs open.  It would be funny if she didn’t look so angry.

“Adora, if this is because of that girl, I’m not sure she’s a good influence on you,” Bow manages despite the stiffness in his posture and the rigidity of his tone.

Adora slumps.  “It’s got nothing to do with Catra.  I just. I love you guys, but you don’t understand.  A little girl died, and it doesn’t phase you at all. I don’t -  I don’t know if I want to lose what makes me human.” Before they can respond, she grabs hold of her backpack straps and says, “I’ve got a thing I need to get ready for. I’ll talk to you guys later.”

She avoids their eyes as she rushes out the door.

\--

  


Adora hasn’t spoken to Adam since he got attacked, and Adora doesn’t know if that’s her fault or his.  Probably hers. She hasn’t made much of an effort with him lately, and maybe that’s because they never really got along the way she wanted to, or maybe it’s because she’s been trying to leave behind human life.  

Whatever the reason, she shouldn’t be calling him. But she is a little bit desperate.

“What do you want, Adora?”

“I have a date.”

“So?” She can just hear his sneer through the phone.  “I don’t want to hear about your freaky faerie sex, sis.  Why’re you calling me?”

“She’s human,” she admits, blood rushing to her face. 

Silence on the other end, and then a sigh.  “Okay, so why did you call?”

“... I need help with an outfit.”

“Why not ask Glimmer and Bow?”

“They don’t like her.”  It’s not entirely untrue, but they think she’s a bad influence, and that’s the most disapproval they’ve ever shown toward one of her girlfriends.  

“Of course they don’t like your human girlfriend,” he mutters.  “I’ll be there in ten, but only if you promise to answer some questions.

“Okay.”

\--

When he arrives at her front door, hair in disarray and the thick bulging scar on his neck in plain view,  Adora has to look away. She hadn’t realized that it would be this bad; she hasn’t seen him since the night of the attack. Maybe she should have checked up on him.  The attack wasn’t just physical, it was also an assault on everything he knew to be true, and she hasn’t spoken to him in the three months since. The fact that he’s here at all is some sort of miracle because she’s been a pretty shitty sister.

“Hey, ‘Dora.” Ugh, she hates when he calls her that.  

“Hey, ‘Dam.”

He scowls.  “Come on, you know that doesn’t make any sense.  Besides, I’m here to help.”

Adora shrugs and lets him in.  He takes a look around her apartment and raises an eyebrow.  “This place hasn’t got any personality.”

“I don’t like kitsch.”

“Yeah, you do.  Your horse figurines are still at Mom and Dad’s.”

 

She pouts.  “That isn’t kitsch!”

His laughter booms and he tells her, “Sure, horse figurines aren’t kitsch.”

He dumps his wallet on her table and spreads out on the couch.  “So, last time we talked you said Glimmer and Bow are faeries?”

Adora should have expected this; she should have, but she didn’t.  She wanted him to help her with an outfit, not have a heart-to-heart about the fae. She flops beside him and looks up at the ceiling.  How much can she tell him? How much can he  _ handle? _ He’s looking at her with patient, clear eyes, so maybe quite a bit.  

“Yeah, they’re fae.”

He raises his eyebrow, and then asks, “So, vampires.  You said something about them being faeries, too. So, how does that work?  Best friends by day, people-eating monsters by night, or?”

Adora shakes her head.  “Vampires are corrupted fae.  It’s not - I mean. They’re not the same thing, not really.” She shifts and tenses in her seat.  “Listen, I really want to be ready when my date gets here.”

Adam sighs.  “Nope, that’s not how this works.  You call me out of the blue telling me you need help with a date when the last time we spoke I’d just been attacked by one of your little friends.  Like, literally, your  _ friends, _ who can apparently become corrupted and turn into monsters.  And now I’m here because they don’t like your new girlfriend. Why not? What’s wrong with her?”

Adora mumbles, and Adam tells her, “Couldn’t catch that, ‘Dora.”

“They think she’s the reason I don’t want to become a fae.”

He stands abruptly, color rising in his cheeks, and looks everywhere but at her.  “Christ, Adora. You were going to become one of them?” Shaking his head, he continues, “What the actual fuck.  What the actual fuck! You were going to let them turn you into a monster? Are you that fucking crazy, sis?”

Blood rushes to Adora’s face as she stands to match Adam’s stance.   “You wanna talk about fucking crazy? I’m not the burnout pothead.” She realizes she has crossed the line as soon as she says it, but that’s the thing with words. You can’t unsay them once they’ve been said.  

Adam’s breathing stops short and the flush drains from his face.  His eyes go hard, and he turns away. “That wasn’t fair. Using weed isn’t the same as wanting to become a blood-sucking creep. I’m leaving.”

“No, I’m - I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean - I mean, I got mad. I don’t… I’m sorry.  Please stay.” She’s out of practice with apologies. The fae don’t like them; they rarely even feel remorse.  Cruelty is celebrated in most circles, and witty comebacks, no matter how painful they may be, are encouraged. Her apology feels disingenuous, and Adam doesn’t fall for it.

“Adora, I know you’ve had a weird life.  I know you’ve always been around weird people who can do weird things, or whatever, but I don’t care.  You can’t just go hurting the people around you and expect them to forgive you just because you made some half-ass apology.”  He takes a deep breath and continues, “I was in the hospital for two weeks, and you visited once. Mom and Dad never see you, and you’re off pretending to be a faerie, pretending to be one of them, because what, do you even  _ have  _ a reason? This whole thing is bullshit.  Honestly. I’m leaving. If you wanna make amends, go visit our parents.  They miss you. Then, maybe we can talk.”

  
He slams the door behind him and Adora sinks into her couch.  Fuck. She’s really fucked up with Adam. She does regret saying that he’s a pothead.  It’s what she’s used to, though. When someone hurts you, you hurt back or lose face. Still, she is sorry.  Really sorry. She curls up into a ball and stares into the empty space.

  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

At 3:47 PM, Catra received the dumbest, saddest text of her life.  She’d just been telling Adora where to park when Adora told her that she doesn’t drive because she doesn’t want to upset the fucking fae.  Catra cackled when she first read that, but now her stomach twists at the thought: this girl doesn’t drive because her friends wouldn’t  _ like  _ it.  That sounds an awful lot like an abusive relationship. Still, she can’t badmouth Adora’s life all the time. There’s a lot riding on this plan, and she needs to tread carefully.

So, instead of making a big deal out of the fact that the fae are controlling every aspect of her target’s life, Catra offers to pick her up.  And yeah, that could go either way. Some people hate motorcycles, and some people are impressed by them. Catra finds herself hoping that Adora is the second type of person.

It shouldn’t matter, really. It’d even be better if she wasn’t impressed. Easier for Catra to deal with when she eventually drops this whole charade.

When she gets to Adora’s apartment complex though, Adora is already waiting outside, sitting on the stairs, hunched over and staring at the ground.  Catra almost doesn’t recognize her without her silly pony-tail. Her hair is down, almost brushing the floor; that’s how far curved forward Adora’s shoulders are.

Catra watches for a moment before she finally clears her throat.  “Hey, Adora.” She doesn’t allow herself to think too hard about the concern creeping into her tone.

Adora jumps up, her shoulders snapping upright.  The smile on her face looks forced until her eyes find Catra and her bike.  Then, it’s like the light of the streetlamp finds Adora’s gray eyes. She bounds toward Catra like a kid running toward an ice cream truck, and it’d be lame if it weren’t so cute.

“I didn’t realize it was you making all that noise!  I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle; this is really cool!” Adora’s voice is filled with something.  Jealousy probably, or is it excitement? Catra’s going to go with jealousy.

She just shrugs and presents Adora with a helmet.

“Drivers are dumb, and if we get into an accident, I don’t wanna be flayed alive by your friends because I didn’t use the proper precautions.”  

Adora smiles and accepts the helmet.  She holds it carefully, with both hands, like it’s made of precious silk instead of bulky plastic.  “You keep taking care of me,” she says, and Catra has to take a moment to breathe. It shouldn’t make her angry, the fact that Adora likes her; she should be fucking ecstatic.  Still, she’s kind of pissed off and uncomfortable, and… no, she’s definitely not feeling guilty. That’d be  _ crazy. _  Catra shuts the emotion out and helps Adora into the helmet, startling herself with the easy affection accompanying the action.

It’s an intimate thing, the way that her hands place the head-gear just so, playing with the strap of her helmet. Adora’s tilting her head and revealing her long neck, and she shivers a little bit when Catra’s fingers brush the underside of her jaw.  She’s gazing at Catra with emotion in her eyes. Close up, Catra notes that Adora is just the slightest bit taller than she is. This is almost too intimate, makes Catra’s heart clutch in her chest. She’s getting sick of that muscle doing that around Adora.

She clips the helmet into place, trying to still her hammering heartbeat.  

This is so dumb.

Catra hops on her bike, and she bites the inside of her cheek as Adora settles behind her.

“Hold on,” she says as the motor revs to life.

\--

Catra can feel Adora’s hips pressing against her backside, and her fingers are gripping tightly to Catra’s hips.  It’s not particularly cozy, but the smell of gasoline and burnt rubber help distract Catra. She can feel Adora’s little huffs of breath against her neck, and uh, Catra feels her stomach clench at the sensation. Christ _ ,  _ what is wrong with her today?

Catra speeds through intersections, unusually restless. There’s a frenzied feeling in her gut that gets worse every time she pulls the throttle, every time the engine purrs beneath her.  God, it’s been way too long if a girl and her bike can do this to her.

What if Adora wants to stay the night? Like… she’s shy and doesn’t really initiate things, but she’s been growing more confident.  How much of that shyness is a fabrication? How much has Adora suppressed herself, shaping herself into whatever the fae demanded? And how long will it take before the woman from the prophecy emerges from Adora’s timid, stuttering self?

They finally get to her house, and she lets the motor die.  She shivers when Adora’s weight leaves her back.

Adora takes off the helmet with ease,  and there’s a big grin on her face like she’s just had the time of her life.  “That’s way different than the faerie scooters.”

It’s unexpected, and it makes Catra laugh.  “Oh my God, please tell me that’s what they’re called,”  Adora is laughing, too. God, she’s pretty when she does that.  Jesus fucking  _ Christ _ , Catra can’t be thinking like that! She hides the scowl forming between her eyes and focuses her attention back to Adora, who by now is staring thoughtfully at Catra’s bike.

“No, but it’s this weird faerie word I can’t really pronounce, so I just call them faerie scooters.  But they’re not as — I don’t know.  They don’t… I don’t — motorcycles are cooler.”  There’s an attractive blush that reaches the tips of Adora’s ears.  

Catra leans against her bike and raises her eyebrow.  “Damn, straight,” she affirms, but suddenly, the air smells wrong.  There’s a rustle in the bushes and the looseness leaves Catra’s limbs.  She goes for her gun, but  _ damn,  _ she didn’t bring it with her. 

Her hand reaches to grab Adora’s shirt, “Behind you!” she shouts, but it’s too late. Inky tendrils restrain Adora’s limbs, and claws gouge bloody gashes into her arms. Adora grunts, tries to throw it off, but the vampire just digs in, its talons sinking through her muscle toward the bone.  Her eyes go unfocused with pain as the vampire’s claws wrench a guttural cry from her throat. 

The vampire’s red eyes stare straight into Catra’s as it hisses into Adora’s ear, “The sword.” 

_ No fucking way, _ Catra thinks, her eyes narrowing.

“I don’t have it,” she lies, trying to dampen the panic that’s bubbling in her chest. 

The vampire  _ smiles,  _ it’s blood-red gums flashing as it opens its maw wide and sinks its predator’s teeth into Adora’s neck.  She whimpers and looks to Catra, eyes fearful and hands grasping uselessly at the air.

Fuck, fuck, fuck,  _ fuck.   _ Catra needs to protect Adora.  

Her body acts without her brain’s permission.  She feels her nails lengthen into claws and her nose elongate into a snout.  The fur that sprouts from her skin is itchy for less than a moment; it passes as her muscles twist into shape.  In a matter of seconds, the world shrinks until she’s towering above the vamp and the girl. If Adora’s eyes didn’t betray her fear before, they definitely do now.  Catra flexes her paws and revels in the power coursing through her veins. The moment she gets her bearings, she pounces.

The vampire shrieks.  It tears away from Adora, who collapses in a heap.  Blood soaks her shirt, runs down the skin of her neck.  Without a second thought, Catra is on the creature, her mouth ripping into its skin.  The taste of the vampire’s blood is tangy-sweet on her tongue, and her claws shred through its tendons. She barely registers its screams of pain; this feels so good,  _ too _ good.  It isn’t until she pulls the vampire’s head from its body with a sickening  _ pop  _ that she stops.   She looks to see where Adora is, and she’s backed up against the fence, her eyes panicked and glassy.  The buzz of the kill dies, and her mind is suddenly all too clear. Shit. That’s not good.

She shifts back and wipes the viscous blood from her face.  Adora is bleeding from her neck, her breaths erratic. She looks small and pitiful, and it’s horrifying. Catra usually doesn’t witness attacks.  The aftermath, sure, once people are dead or clinging to life. But actually observing the violence against this person she knows is different, somehow.

“Ca-Catra?”  Each of Adora’s little hitching breaths feels like a knife in Catra’s gut, and then she leans her head back against the fence and her eyes lose focus again.  She’s passing out. Shit,  _ shit,  _ this is  _ bad _ .

Catra kneels down beside her.  “It’s okay, babe. I’ve got you.” She hears her voice shake and has to ignore the sight of her trembling hands as she gathers Adora up in her arms to carry her into the house. 


	10. Chapter 10

Catra runs her hands through her hair and takes a deep breath.  Her lip is sore from where her sharp teeth have worried at it and she knows, she  _ knows _ Adora is going to be angry.  Not because Catra’s done anything wrong — she hasn’t — but because Scorpia warned her that Adora cursed her out when she tried to explain what had happened.  Catra really doesn’t want to be yelled at, especially not after the night she’s had.

Hooking Adora up to the IV to make sure she got enough saline solution in her system before her roommates got back was… well, Catra is usually on the receiving end of medical attention, and Entrapta’s texts weren’t nearly as helpful as Scorpia’s translations.  Catra had been frantically rushing and covered in blood, and though she won’t ever admit it, she’d been relieved when Scorpia and Entrapta showed up and took over. Their competence in at least this aspect of vampire hunting is appreciated.

The former-changelings took turns looking after Adora in the night, while Catra passed out on Scorpia’s too-soft bed soon after a shower.  Scorpia’s bed, because Adora is in her room.

So now that Adora’s awake, she doesn't really know what to do.  The confrontation between them is inevitable, and really, Catra  _ hasn’t _ done anything wrong besides fudge the truth a bit.  She hasn’t broken any promises to Adora; she hasn’t even made any.  So why is she so worried? She’s even brought a little brigadeiro, one of those sweet chocolate caramels her mom taught her how to make when she was little, as a peace offering.   _ Ugh, this is so dumb,  _ she thinks before she shoves her bedroom door open.

“Hey, Adora.”  She lifts up the sweet, but her smirk falters when she finds Adora sitting up in her bed with a scowl that doesn’t suit her features.

“Don’t you ‘Hey, Adora’ me, you  _ liar. _ ”

Okay.  So maybe this isn’t going to go as well as she’d hoped. She drops her hand.

“Woah, woah, I  _ never  _ lied to you.”

“You let me believe — you let me believe you were human! 

“I never said — ” 

“What else was I supposed to think with your ‘being mortal is beautiful’ spiel?  You may not have said it outright, but it was lying by omission. You wanted me to think you were human, and I fell for — ”

Catra doesn’t let her finish.  “Is this how you thank the person who saved your life?”  

It’s a low blow, even Catra knows it, but she doesn’t care.  She’s exhausted, even if the way that Adora’s blue eyes pierce through her leaves her breathless at their intensity.  People don’t usually challenge her on her bullshit.

“I’m not in your debt.”  Adora’s voice is low and dangerous, but Catra’s never shied away from a dangerous situation in her life.

“Oh my  _ God _ , spoken like a true faerie wannabe.”

Adora winces, but she doesn’t back down.  “That’s rich coming from you. What even are you, anyway?”

Catra shrugs.  “Thought it’d be obvious after last night.”

“Oh, last night when I was attacked by a vampire and you turned into some sort of monster?”  Adora goes to cross her arms across her chest, but grimaces halfway there and lets her hands fold in her lap instead.

“I’m a shifter.”  Adora’s got to know what shifters are. She’s been involved with supernatural stuff since she was a kid.

“A shifter?” Confusion crosses her features.  Her big blue eyes squint at Catra like she’s trying to figure her out.

“Ugh, do I have to spell everything out to you?  I’m a  _ werecat _ .  Okay?  Happy now? God, I hate that word.”

Adora wrinkles her nose.  “What… like a werewolf? But those aren’t real.”

Catra protests, normally, to werecats being compared to werewolves.  Sure, they’re both shifters, but Catra actually has control over her transformations, thank you very much.  “Oh, so faeries and vampires are real, but not shifters. No, that’d be too far a stretch.”

Adora glowers, somehow imperious even though she can barely move her arms without expressing her pain, even with the silly, oversized patch of gauze covering her neck.

“You don’t get to be the one who’s mad, Catra.”  Her voice softens. “You lied to me, and I don’t — I don’t get it.  If you had told me you weren’t human, I wouldn’t think any less of you!  I’ve been around faeries my whole life. Why did you feel like you had to hide this from me?”

Catra’s shoulders slump and she sighs.  She shuffles over to her closet and reaches toward the back, reemerging with the Sword of Power.  Catra feels dumb.  _ This  _ is  _ dumb _ .  Last night was supposed to be more about making Adora want to be part of Catra’s life.  They were going to spring the prophecy stuff on her in about a month, but now it looks like she’s got to improvise.  It wasn’t supposed to go like this, with blood and tears and accusations. She tries to smooth it over with a half-truth. 

“Last night.  I was gonna… I was gonna tell you. You’re um… you’re part of a prophecy?  As in like, a big one. This is what the vamp was after.”

Adora doesn’t say anything, so Catra continues.  “And like, I was going to try to and ease you into it, you know?  After food and wine. Let you know what I am, let you know what you are.”

Adora’s eyebrows furrow.  “What am I?” Her voice is soft, and she looks like the answer to that question is going to be very important to her.   

“You’re, like… I’m not sure.” Catra deflates.  “The prophecy says something about being stuck between two worlds, and you fit the bill. You’re human, but the fae trust you.  They’d never expect you to betray them.”

Those aren’t the right words to use, but Catra doesn’t realize it until she’s said them.  Adora’s face turns a bright red, and not that pretty shade it goes when she’s embarrassed.  No, she’s scarlet, and she’s  _ mad. _

“Betray the fae? Are you — you’ve gotta be — they’re my friends, my  _ family, _ ” she splutters.

“Oh, sure, some family you’ve got there.  Adora, when you were upset about that little girl, you called  _ me _ .  Not them.  And we’d only met twice!  Every single time we talk, you’re always complaining about them.”

Adora is silent, and she’s too still.  Like, it’s eerie, like, she’s holding her breath.  Or holding back tears. “Listen,” Catra begins, but Adora interrupts.

“And what about us?  Was that a lie, too?”

Welp, there it is.

“No, Adora, c’mon, I — ”

“Were you using me for this stupid prophecy?”  Her voice borders on shrill.

“At first, sure, I was using you.  You’ve seen how many people die in this city!  You know what those things will do to people who can’t fight back.  But…” Catra rolls her eyes. “Ugh, this is dumb. I like you, okay?  You’re sweet. You’re a good kisser. And, like, you kill vampires. So maybe you have a weird thing for the fae, but that’s like, whatever, I can deal.”  Catra doesn’t let herself believe half of what she says, and maybe it shows because none of that seems to appease Adora.

“I wanna leave.”

“You’re in no condition to go anywhere, princess.”

“Fine, then I want  _ you  _ to leave!”

“This is  _ my  _ room.”

Adora reaches for the bedside table and grabs the alarm clock.  Catra is used to girls throwing things at her — she ducks just in time, wincing as the clock leaves a dent in her wall.  She spares a glance at Adora’s face, which is twisted in a grimace, presumably from the effort of trying to bash Catra’s head in with the projectile.  _ Serves you right for throwing a fucking clock at my head, _ she thinks. 

“Fine, I’m going!”

As she exits, she finds Scorpia and Entrapta listening outside her door.  “What do you two want?” She asks as she tosses the brigadeiro to Entrapta, who catches it with a squeal in a shower of chocolate sprinkles.

Scorpia starts to say something, but Catra raises her hand.  “Y’know what? I don’t actually care. I’m going for a ride. Later, losers.” 

She stalks through the hallway to where she leaves her keys and grabs them before slamming the door behind herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, to give my betas more time to beta, I'm going to start updating on Mondays. Not this coming Monday, but the Monday after. So, like, the next update will probably be on the 11th of March.
> 
> I know that's a long time.
> 
> On the other hand, I have a new story, a two-shot (I think? IDK yet) in the works. I'm really excited to share it. That will also probably be in a few weeks. We'll see. I'm busy.
> 
> Huge thanks to everyone who's commented, given kudos, bookmarked, and read this story! I really appreciate it. IDK how much longer it's going to be yet, but hey. I'm having fun. Hopefully, y'all are, too.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said Monday, but it's ready now, so. :) Enjoy!

Adora crowds herself into the corner of a stranger’s bed.  The walls on the already small room are packed with posters and it’s filled with two lumbering, bursting bookcases.  It makes the room too loud, too small, like the sides of it are closing in on her. She inhales for four seconds. Holds for seven.  Exhales for eight. Angella taught her that the first time she had a panic attack, but it isn’t working. Her heart is still trying to beat out of her chest, and she doesn’t know what to do with herself.  It hurts to stand, it hurts to move her arms, it hurts to turn her head; she just aches all over. And there’s nothing she can do about any of it; she can’t stop the pain, she can’t get out of the bed, she can’t even _breathe_ right.

  
She’s normally better than this.  How did she not realize that vampire was there? What a stupid mistake, letting herself get distracted by some lying, manipulative _ugh._ At least that won’t happen again.

God, that’s what hurts the most!  She’d really thought there was something real there.  Like, they were really connecting. But it turns out that Catra isn’t interested in Adora, except as a means to an end. Geez, just how stupid does Catra think she is anyway, thinking Adora would abandon her friends just for some cute girl?  As if she doesn’t have a scrap of loyalty or even just dignity in her. She’s got some nerve pulling this.

  
The door creaks open and Adora’s head snaps toward it.  The motion sets her neck afire with a fresh flare of pain.  

It’s just the tall lady from before, with the white hair and the big brown eyes.  Adora doesn’t actually know her name, because the last time they met, Adora hadn’t been in the mood for pleasantries.

“Hi!  You gonna yell at me again?  I can come back when you’re feeling less yelly if you want.”  The woman’s face is open and cheerful, and Adora does feel a little bit bad about cursing her out earlier.

“Um… I’m not feeling yelly.”

“Oh, good.  I’m Scorpia!  I wanted to talk to you.”

Adora doesn’t like being cornered, and that’s exactly what this feels like. Scorpia seems nice enough, but Adora’s in pain and still not breathing right.  She can only deal with so much.

But Scorpia doesn’t look like she’s gonna take no for an answer.

“Okay,” Adora sighs, looking down at the comforter and her clasped hands.

“Look,” Scorpia says, shifting on her feet and glancing uncomfortably around the room before her eyes settle on Adora.  “Catra can be a little… intense, you know? But she’s got a heart of gold. She let me and Entrapta live with her when we had nowhere else to go after the fae got tired of us, and she tries to protect the people in this city with every resource she’s got.  She has a lot of responsibility on her shoulders, and she does her best. I know it hurts, to be used. Trust me, I _know_. But Catra’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

As a professional, Adora should probably be interested in the information that Scorpia’s offering, but honestly, she’s not in the mood to hear anyone come to Catra’s defense.

“What do you mean, the fae got tired of you?”

Scorpia’s eyes go blank, and she rubs the back of her neck.  “I’m a changeling.”

Adora raises her eyebrow.  “No, you’re not.”

Scorpia squints at her.  “Yes, I—oh, that’s right. Catra said you’ve got the sight.  I’m not a faerie changeling; I’m what they swap with the changeling.  As in, the fae took me and left a changeling in my place. So, I’m technically still a changeling, just like, maybe the opposite of one?  They don’t really give us a name. They just take us when we’re cute babies, and then give us back to the humans when they’re sick of us. There’s, like, a whole rehabilitation program for people like me.”

Adora’s mouth is so wide open, she must look like she’s trying to catch flies.  She’s only given the children that changelings replace passing thought before. “So… they just… they didn’t take care of you?”

Scorpia’s shifts uneasily.  Maybe Adora shouldn’t have asked.  “Catra said you were kinda sheltered for someone who hangs around the fae.  They really kept you in the dark, huh?”

Adora doesn’t like the implication that she should know this, but she’s the one who opened this line of conversation.  Now she’s got to deal with the discomfort.

Scorpia continues, “So, like, they take us, and they raise us with the faerie children.  Except, faerie kids can be kinda mean to human kids. And the adults, they keep us kinda like pets?  And like, if you’re lucky like me and Entrapta were, they treat you well. But you still don’t have tons of autonomy, and like, I don’t know.  It’s kinda hard to talk about. When you’re not cute anymore, they get tired of you and pop you back to the human realm. And I stopped being cute right when I hit my growth spurt at sixteen.  Entrapta was with them up until last year.”

Adora doesn’t know what to think, what to feel.  Sure, the fae take children, but Glimmer had always told her that it was for the children’s own good, to take them away from abusive families.  And the fae can’t outright lie.

They can, however, obfuscate.  How much more doesn’t she know?

Adora chews on her lip.  “I heard the fae only take kids from abusive homes.”

The way Scorpia winces makes Adora’s anxiety flare up.  She’s messed up _again._  Adora digs her nails into her palms. Something about the pressure grounds her.

“Out of the frying pan and into the fire, I guess,” Scorpia recovers with a sad smile.  

Then, she changes the subject.  “Catra made these. They’re bree-ga-deeros. I’m probably saying it wrong.  Anyways, she made them for you last night. I figured you should try them. She says they’re easy to make, but it seems like a lot of effort to go through.”

Adora scoffs. “Yeah, she’s trying to recruit me.”

Scorpia laughs, a big booming sound that fills up the whole room. “Sure.  That’s why she made you chocolate bonbons. Between you and me, Catra’s not very good at parsing through her feelings, but the last time she made these, it was for a girl she liked at her dance studio.  She thinks she’s being subtle, but Catra wouldn’t know subtlety if it hit her with a truck. Anyways, try one. You’ll like it.”

Adora lies down and faces the wall.  She is suddenly very tired and doesn’t want to think about a word Scorpia has said, not about faeries _or_ Catra.

Scorpia makes a sound like tutting.  “Fine, suit yourself. I’ll leave one on the bedside table in case you change your mind.  And I’ll bring dinner up in an hour.”

The door clicks shut, and Adora turns back around.  The bonbon does look good. What did Scorpia call it?  She can’t remember, but she hesitantly takes a bite. It’s… it’s good.  It’s super sweet and creamy, and the burst of chocolate in her mouth feels like comfort.

It’s an odd sensation after such an uncomfortable day.  

Her eyes find the dent she made in the wall.  She could have hit Catra. She could have hurt her.  Adora doesn’t want to hurt anyone. She just wants… she wants to feel less alone. And she thought that with Catra, she would have a chance at that.  It’s not  _fair._ Even if Scorpia is right and Catra really is into her, how is she supposed to trust her?  How is she ever going to know if Catra wants her, or just wants to use her?  

Adora lies back on the bed and pulls the blankets over herself.  She's suddenly very cold, and not even the heavy comforter can stave off the chill of loneliness that envelops her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive shoutout to Catagonist and Touzen who, once again, took time out of their busy schedules to help me with this chapter. I love you two.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment if you enjoyed it! I will endeavor not to torture Adora as much in this fic. Updates will (hopefully) be every weekend. I know my chapters are a little bit short, but hey, that's kind of my MO at this point.


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